Take caution when approaching three Parisian guys who write about the dreams of men in stained raincoats and were signed before they played their first show. Teenagers stem from a drunken joke in 2005, except someone forgot to draw the line and as a result they’re playing to a couple of hundred, er, teenagers under glittering chandeliers. But it’s not as glitzy as it sounds. The room is just about three quarters full and the monotone vocals from frontman Quentin Delafon leaves Teenagers with just abut as much charisma as Boris Johnson’s bob.
‘Love No’ is a stroppy lover moaning against building guitars and skewed beats that fail to escalate. Five young girls then mount the stage to sing back-up to debut single ‘Homecoming’ while Delafon utters the lines “I fucked my American cunt” repeatedly. It’s a cringe-worthy site that isn’t alleviated by the impending gauche lyrics of ‘Feeling Better’. And having shelled out your pounds for a ticket you leave with the feeling that the ironic-pop joke just isn’t funny anymore.
